On Days Like These
by Roofran411
Summary: This continues the story of Arianna the courtesan and copper's informant, in and out of whose life Detective Inspector Zen wanders. I have rated this 'M' for one or two four letter words and its adult theme.


On days like these

12 July 2012

00:25

ON DAYS LIKE THESE

I did not create any of the characters. Michael Dibdin did.

I have to say that the Arianna that ** he** created was not the Arianna of the screen play 'Cabal'. She was created by the screen writer whose name escapes me. .

Neither did I create the car bombing nor Zen's retreat to Versilia, nor the beach death. I just borrowed them, like Zen, to play with. (Michael Dibdin's _And Then You Die_')

Like me, **Rufus Sewell** and **Valentina Cervi** took Zen and Arianna and had fun with them.

.

The song for this is '_On Days Like These._'

The Italian intro and feel to the melody and the nostalgic lyric with its hint of sadness hits the right spots.

Sung by the wonderful Matt Monroe.

_Qwesti giorno quando vieni il belle sole _

La la la la la-la -la-la-la la la la la

On days like these, when skies are blue and grass is green,

I look around and think what might have been

And then I hear sweet music float around my head,

As I recall the many things we left unsaid.

It's on days like these that I remember

Singing songs and drinking wine

While your eyes played games with mine.

.

On days like these I wonder what became of you,

Maybe today you are singing songs with someone new,

I'd like to think you're walking by those willow trees,

Remembering the love we knew on days like these.

It's on days like these that I remember

Singing songs and drinking wine

While your eyes played games with mine.

.

On days like these I wonder what became of you

Maybe today you are singing songs with someone new.

.

_Questi giorno quando vieni il belle sole._

'

ON DAYs LIKE THESE

.

I saw him .

I stepped out of the shady back lane that ran behind the huge nineteenth century mansions that stood on the cliffs above Versilia, down the long shallow steps that led down into the bright hot sunshine of the promenade.

I gave thanks for the enormous straw hat and the ankle length voile caftan I was wearing. My colouring does not take kindly to the sun. I fumbled in my big straw bag for my huge sunglasses and slid onto my nose and I saw him leaning against the railings of the promenade.

The world swung around me and I thought I was going to faint. I leaned against the wall and waited for the dizziness to pass.

When I looked up, he was gone.

Had I imagined it?

I ran across the road dodging the traffic and looked over the railings. There were the steep wooden steps nearby, leading down onto the beach.

The usual bagnio shack that sold ice-cream or drinks and hired out the coloured umbrellas and loungers that lined the sands , was as usual, surrounded by mothers and children or retired couples .

I took the steps down two at a time to the shack. Its owner was busy with two children but I interrupted him to ask if he had seen anyone. He shrugged at me.

_What was he wearing? _Think, Arianna!

Navy blue cotton shirt, beige chinos, Panama hat. He shook his head but his attention was on his sales.

I half ran along the boardwalk, looking, looking along each row. . Down to the green loungers, the exclusive expensive ones.

There he was, on one of them , his hat over his face .

"Zen!"

He didn't reply.

I nudged him hard with my foot .

Alright, I kicked him.

He removed his hat.

I had never seen him before.

I felt sick and sweaty.

"Sorry, I thought you were somebody ...I knew " I stumbled the words out.

He looked coldly at me.

Understandable , I suppose.

I went back to the promenade and into the nearest bar and sat down at a table resting my head on my hand . My forehead felt clammy . My light floaty dress clung to me. The waiter came, I asked for iced water. I sipped it and slowly pulled myself together.

I made my way back to the villa like an old woman, feeling my way along the high wall to the back gate of the villa. I went up through the shady terraces of the garden and up into my room to lie on the bed.

When was I going to understand?

What was there not to understand?

I was mistaken.

I had to get it out of my head that I would cross a road and see someone; that someone would turn a corner and it would be him.

When was I going to rid this undefeated little whisper that kept telling me they are wrong?

Or they are lying.

.

Five months ago, four police officers were returning to Rome from Sicily with evidence to be given in the coming Mafia trial. The car in which they were travelling was crossing the viaduct leading to Palermo airport when it was blown up. It was reported that all four officers were killed. At first they were not named but gradually information began to leak. A senior officer, acting Superintendent Aurelio Zen, Roma Criminalpoli, was believed to be among the dead.

Superintendent Zen had been instrumental in the arrests of the senior members of the Corleone gang and was to give evidence in their trial.

Aurelio Zen was one of the few police officers not in Mafia pay.

He was intelligent clever and honest.

He was also funny, kind and ...beautiful

He was my controller.

I passed information to him.

We were not lovers.

In my line of business, it does not do to fall in love.

My line of business?

Well, on my tax returns, it states my occupation as escort.

I _am_ an escort, and I have a good income from it, but my principal income , and I pay taxes on this too, is from my less publicly known profession, the oldest profession.

A courtesan, a lady of the night, a call girl; any of these fits my job description.

Zen knew this from the beginning, but he never ever treated me as anything but a lady even when he screwed me.

No! He wasn't a client

We had shagged twice but that was almost accidental.

He fucked me because I needed it.

I needed him...

I did not mean to fall in love with him but I did.

Did he love me?

I don't know.

I loved him.

Did he know?

I don't know that either.

.

Before he had gone to Sicily he told me he would contact me when he came back; so I was not expecting to hear from him for a while.

The explosion sort of passed me by. Sorry and all- that but nothing to do with me.

I began to hear whispers about Zen. At the sort of venues where I would have picked up information that I would have passed on to him.

I began to be afraid.

Afraid, but not for me.

Afraid that what they were whispering might be true.

I rang his number at the Questura, from a public phone as he had told me.

Someone told me very politely that Chief inspector Zen was away, and did I want to leave a message?

The fourth time I rang, I was smoothly put straight through to Chief Superintendent Mascati.

So he was back from sick leave.

I found my voice and said "I wish to speak to Inspector Zen."

"And you are?"

I... I am a...a friend of Inspector Zen...

"Uh-Huh?" he said. Such a soft smooth voice.

"May I speak to him...please?" I could hear mine shaking. "Uh, I have something for him."

"Are you a, how may I say... an associate of Inspector Zen?"

"Uh ...yes."

The silken voice came over the line.

"Where are you, my dear? Are you close to the Questura? "

"Um... close, yes."

"I will meet you. Tell me where, a bar, a cafe. "

I told him.

"And your name?"

"Uh ...Uh ...Arianna.

"I will be with you in ten minutes."

He rang off.

The questions flooded my mind. It was not only my voice that was shaking now.

Perhaps the whispers were right.

I left the bar that I had phoned from and walked down the road, I crossed it and sat outside another bar and ordered a limonata. When I was satisfied that I wasn't followed, I moved to the bar where I had arranged to meet Mascati. I was not wearing my usual style of clothes but a rather worn pair of jeans, a hoodie pulled over my hair, no makeup and my big sunglasses.

I sat at the bar with a coffee and watched the door in the mirror that lined the back of the bar. He came in. A big heavy man in his middle fifties, greying dark hair, a close clipped badger beard and rather beautiful dark eyes. A silver fox.

He came to the bar and sat next to me. He ordered a coffee and a brandy, his voice dark like strong black coffee in front of him.

"Would you care to join me?" he said.

As a pick up line, it was not very original but then he wasn't really picking me up but as he cupped my elbow, I thought yeah, I bet you pulled very successfully when you were young.

He smiled at me and I thought maybe even today if you chose.

We took the table in the corner.

"How did you know me?"

"I have been a policeman for thirty years and I have been to many official functions. I recognised you." he waited till the waiter brought our drinks across.

"Now, Arianna, what is your business with Zen?"

I stared at my coffee.

Zen had said tell no-one.

I chewed my bottom lip.

"Sometimes ... I get to hear of things ... which are ...useful..."

I gulped down most of my coffee.

He watched me. "You are his snout?"

I bit my lip again.

"Do you have something for him?"

"No...No...I heard... He told me he was going to Sicily and he would contact me when... The explosion...those police men... They are saying that Zen was one."

I looked up at him.

"The bomb has all the hall marks of _the Family." _He shook his head."Zen? We don't know. It was an explosion, things were not ... "a little movement of his hand. "... we do not know for sure yet who were in the car. "He shrugged. "The Corleone trial is coming up soon; Zen was the principal witness for the prosecution. Without him we have almost no case. There is nothing more I can tell you. We don't know." He watched me for a moment. "Here, drink this brandy. Straight down. "

I swallowed it. We sat together silently for a while.

"My dear, if at any time, you have anything you think we may be interested in, you may ring me."

I nodded.

"You will be OK? "

I nodded again. He stood, smiled a gentle smile and patted me on my shoulder and left.

I held onto my glass, then I drank the now cold coffee that he had not touched.

'_We don't know who was in the car_'

Hah! It was weeks ago! If they weren't in the car, then they would have turned up for work by now.

Oh! He was good.

Very good!

But I have known a lot of men and_ he_ was lying. I don't know why he was lying but he was lying.

And not just one lie; a whole tissue of lies.

Very clever.

He didn't say he was dead but he didn't say he wasn't.

The rumours persisted. So did I.

One of my regular clients was the Minister for the Interior; his remit was the police. So I asked him, subtly of course.

"Zen? Oh Yes. Yes, yes, didn't he die in that Mafia bomb 0-job?"

You would think that that would close it; but no. The Minister, for all he was a politician, was not as good a liar as Mascati.

I did not believe him.

.

I went to see Nadia Pirlo, Assistant Prosecutor General.

This lady and I had crossed before.

She was blonde, beautiful and elegant. She was also as cold as frozen peas; as tough and as shiny as stainless steel.

However, she was in charge of the Corleone case.

I sent my card in.

I knew she would see me.

"And what can I do for you? _Arianna...? _Do you have another name?"

The dislike in her cutting sarcasm was obvious but I didn't like her either.

"I do not use it."

"Do not use it or do not have one? Aren't you a 'friend' of Amadeo Colonna? "

"Excuse me, Assistant Attorney General but may I get to the reason for my call? I am inquiring about Detective Chief Inspector Aurelio Zen ."

Her eyes narrowed.

"Zen? Zen? Do I know a Zen?"

"Ooh! I think so. Until very recently he was acting Superintendent in charge of the Murder Squad. "

Her lips tightened. "What do you want, Miss um... "

"May I ask about Inspector Zen?"

"I have no information on Inspector Zen. I believe he is dead. Now if you will excuse me, I have little time to spare for nameless trollops. "

"At least I am an honest trollop. And I said I didn't use my name not that I didn't have one."

"That is something I do not comprehend. But then, when one's family name is as old as mine, one is proud to use it."

Unusually, I was stung into retorting.

"Di Saronno is older than Pirlo and certainly not with so disreputable a history."

I shut the door quietly behind me.

The men I did not believe.

But Nadia Pirlo, I did.

For whatever reason.

She nearly stamped it out but the little flicker of suspicion managed to survive.

I saw him, Zen, on the street. In a bar, turning a corner, crossing a road.

But no!

It wasn't him.

It was never him.

I saw him parking a car. I ran to catch up. The stranger was willing to be picked up but I wasn't.

I began to believe that I was mistaken; that perhaps he _was_ dead.

And yet...

I carried on with my job but my sparkle began to dim; my mind was always elsewhere.

I did not eat.

The Cardinal said "My dear, you are getting thin; and so pale. Are you ill?"

"No, no, Eminence, a little tired perhaps. In need of a holiday."

"Then you must take one."

"Perhaps, in a little while."

"Maybe I can speak to someone. A villa by the seaside?"

I rang Amadeo Colonna .

"Amadeo, it's Arianna."

He was surprised. "Long time, Arianna."

"Yes." I said sourly.

"What can I do for you?"

"Chief inspector Zen; I have heard he is dead."

"Um. Well yes-s. We believe so."

"What do you mean?"

"We-ell, there was a bomb, he was believed to be in the car... "

I did not believe _him_.

"Why do you want to know?"

"If he ...is ...um ... Have you got his wife's address? I would like to send my condolences. "

He blew a breath of air.

"I wouldn't do that. You ...um... You know ... And they were just divorced and it was rather nasty."

"Hmm. Well, can you give me his mother's address? I would like to send flowers. To express sympathy... He was most kind, you know, when Ludo died.

He paused suspiciously. "I don't know...if I ought..."

"Oh for God's sake, Amadeo! He_ wasn'_t a client. _He_ couldn't afford me!"I said bitchily.

"Hmm"

"Sod_ you, you bastard_" I thought.

"Oh! ... Oh, well! Perhaps not. Ok Amadeo. Ciao."

.

Why didn't I believe them?

Why didn't I accept what I had been told?

I don't know; I don't know.

.

So I rang Chief Superintendent Mascati.

Yes!

And I was on my way to see Signora Zen.

Mama Zen was dressed in black and their apartment was filled with flowers.

She was not a bit as I expected, not a cosy plump Italian mama. She was tallish and slender. Her silver gilt hair had a very sharp cut, though her makeup was merely a dab of powder and lipstick.

She didn't really need it.

She was very elegant. Well, she _was_ Venetian. I suppose.

And she was a very bright lady.

"You are a friend of my son?" she was looking at my Prada pants and my Gucci shoes.

"Umm, not exactly, Signora. I worked with him now and then."

She nodded, her head tilted, summing me up. Her eyebrows were faintly raised; Prada and Gucci do not go hand in hand with the Politzia, they implied.

Somehow, I found it difficult to deceive her.

"I wish to express my sympathy ..."

"Thank you." She dabbed her nose with a man's handkerchief.

Zen's?

I wondered ... "When... would be there a ...?"

My voice died away.

"A funeral? That would be difficult because of the explosion... A memorial service perhaps later..."

Again, dabbing her eyes.

I swallowed over the lump in my throat , certain now, convinced by a man's handkerchief.

I made my goodbyes and left.

I stopped seeing him everywhere, but I found it difficult to be witty and fun.

The Minister said " You are getting thin, my dear.

And the Cardinal said that he was concerned.

"Let me speak to someone."

Eventually I agreed.

The Conte della Vetta offered his villa in Versilia for the summer.

"No, no Donna Arianna. Please avail yourself of it. The staff are there. We will not be using it this summer; I ... I have to work. "A little grimace. "The Contessa will be in the States for the summer... You know Martha's Vineyard? The Kennedys are family friends, you know. "

Even counts are not above a little name dropping.

I allowed myself to be persuaded to use his 'villa'.

Built at the end of the 19th century, on the cliffs above Versilia, it was more of a palazzo than somebody's holiday home.

Beautiful. Elegant . Old Titled Money.

And the Conte visited several times: _' just to check everything is satisfactory for you, you know.'_

Oh! I do know!

He could have rung, of course but, but as they say, there is no such thing as a free lunch.

I spent my time sleeping, picking at the exquisite meals the Conte's staff prepared for me, swimming in the pool and reading in the gardens. I wanted no company and so I was there three weeks or so before I ventured to stroll outside, along the promenade or in the town.

I would have my lunch and my riposo, a shower and wander out through the gardens and through the lane and down to the promenade.

I had done this three or four times before that afternoon.

. . .

That evening the Conte arrived in time for dinner and an early 'night'.

He did not notice that I was a little shaken.

We were having our breakfast on the terrace the next morning when he said casually, "Bernadino tells me there was a shooting on the beach yesterday." Bernadino was his butler. "Whatever is happening to Versillia?"

He tst-tsted.

I picked up my sunglasses and slid them on.

My heart had stopped for a minute, starting again a violent thump. .

"Mafia?"

"Oh no, no. The Mafiosa come here for their vacanzes .They keep their work away from here. No, It was a local man, Bernardino tells me. He was fucking somebody's wife; they used to meet on the beach. Her husband found out."

The irony of the situation was not lost on me but it appeared to pass him by.

"You are looking most charming, cara. So much better than when you arrived."

"Thank you, Conte."

"Last night... most enjoyable, most enjoyable. I thought perhaps to stay tonight. We could go for a drive; have lunch somewhere? I do not have to be back in Roma today .but I must make an early start tomorrow morning."

I smiled graciously at him.

"Then we will have to retire early, my dear Conte."

.

The Count had returned to his room.

"I must be away early in the morning. I will not disturb you."

I thanked him for his consideration, even though he hadn't slept in my bed on the previous occasions either. It wouldn't do for the staff to know his bed had not been slept in, even if they had a good idea what he had been up beforehand.

My room was exquisite, all 'Belle Epoque', fragile gilded furniture, gilt mirrors and a marble floor. Set in one wall, there were two windows with glazed doors and louvred shutters leading to what were barely more than decorative balconies.

These hot nights I closed the shutters and kept the glazed doors open.

The enormous bed stood between these windows and had a night table holding a lamp on each side. A door in one wall led into a luxurious bathroom.

After he left me, I had a long shower and getting into bed, I turned the lamps off.

Sleep was escaping me; I lay there and let my mind drift. Not thinking of anything just a blank, absently looking at the small bars of light cast by the moon through the open slats of the shutters, marching on the marble floor, in two rows, on either side off the bed.

I turned on to my side and let my eyes slip shut. I don't know how long I lay before I realised.

There was someone in the room.

I was sure.

I feel it.

I could hear the breathing.

My heart jumped up into my throat.

I opened my eyes and held my breath and listened.

No.

Nothing.

I must be going mad. It must be all that talk about the shooting.

How could there be anyone?

How could anyone get in?

I realised I was still holding my breath and released it.

I listened again.

Was there?

Yes?

No!

I told myself not to be so stupid.

I turned onto my other side. My breath was still jagged. I held it again, my eyes jittering over the floor.

No!

I let my breath go again and allowed my eyes to close.

They shot open again.

The small bars of light on this side of the bed! They were now separated by a long narrow shaft of light...

The shutters were open. Just a crack; just the narrowest of slits but I had shut them.

I knew I had shut them.

There_ was_ someone in the room.

I could hear myself gasping for breath. I was screaming in my mind and as my mouth opened to let it out, a hand clamped over it and a knee on my back, held me down.

A voice whispered in my ear, "I will count to three, then I will let you go. Do not scream. Do you understand?"

I was gibbering.

"Do you?" I nodded.

"One ...two... Three."

He began to lift his hand and I started to scream and his hand went back faster than I could have thought possible.

"Don't scream!" he whispered fiercely

Fiercely? No.

What then?

Was he laughing?

As I struggled and panicked, I could smell something on his hand.

Something familiar.

"Right? Ok? We'll try again. One...two... three."

He lifted his hand again. There was definitely laughter in his voice now.

And I knew!

"You bastard, Zen!" I whispered furiously.

" Shssh! Quiet !" He moved off me, swung his legs up on the bed and sat up against the headboard.

" How did you know?"

"I could smell the bloody Nationalis on your hand. I don't know anyone else who smokes those disgusting cheapest."

"Sshhhhh!

"I thought you were giving them up. How did you bloody well get in? "

"Up the shrub and the vine ..."

"But _how did you get __**in**_?"

"Simple! Part of basic police training ...how to break in to a house."

"When did you get in? Were you in here when...? "I could hear my voice rising to a horrified squeak.

"When you and the Conte were at it?" I could hear him laughing again through his whisper. "No -o. But I could have been. Why? Oh! Did you fancy a threesome?"

"You... swine!"I swung my hand to hit him but he was too fast and caught it.

"Now, now." He held my fist to his chest.

"I waited till he went. I saw the light go on in here and in the bathroom and go on and off in his room before I started to climb. I must say he got value for his money." A dirty chuckle.

"He loaned me the villa for the summer. He comes down to check everything is alright." I muttered frostily.

"Oh! I see. He wanted payment in kind, did he? Well, that's the aristocracy for you. Nothing for nothing. You ought to know that."

I subsided sulkily and reached over to switch on the light. He caught my hand again.

"No, don't turn the light on." There was something in his voice that made me stop."You saw me? Yesterday? On the promenade?"

"Mmm, Yeah! Why did you disappear if you saw me? I kicked some bloke I thought was you... He got shot..."

"Yeah... That was nothing to do with me. "

"No."

"He was having an affair, the husband shot him..."

"Ye-eaah. The Conte told me. "I waited, and then I asked "How did you disappear so fast? I looked for you. "

"I thought you might. Hide in full sight! You were looking for a dark shirt and light pants and a hat. I took them off and l swiped a towel off a lounger and spread it over me.

My rage at him started to rise again. "You are a sod, Zen. I thought you were dead!"

I turned fast to pummel him.

Hard.

Burbling with laughter he grabbed my wrists.

"Hey, hey Arianna. Calm down."

The tears started through my rage.

"Hey." He cupped my head, stroking my hair uncertainly. "I couldn't risk you speaking to me; not out there in the open like that. There might have been someone around."

I waited.

"You _were_ in that car?" I asked slowly. A little jerk of his head: of assent.

"The Family? _Christ! _ That's the third...time they've tried. "

I choked then swallowed.

"Have you been in hiding all this time?"

"Hospital for nearly three months, convalescence, then they packed me off where I wouldn't be known. They thought! Witness Protection." He shrugged. "They let it leak out that perhaps I was ...had popped off. So that they could get the trial together."

"The Corleone family is still looking for you?"

"I don't know. They might be. There are not many of them left outside now; but there's no point in taking chances."

I gave up my sulk.

I pulled up the sheet and tucked it under my arms and half sat up beside him.

"I knew there was something! I knew they were lying."

"Who?"

"The Minister, Amadeo, Mascati; that motley crew."

We sat in silence for a while.

"Alright if I have a ciggie?

"NO! The count doesn't smoke and neither do I. The Count's staff will smell it straight away.

He shrugged and took his hand out of his pocket.  
"Does your mama know?"

A whisper of a laugh through a smile.

"Of course."

I bit my lip.

"She's good! I believed her! And that cow Piranha? She knew too?"

"You mean Assistant Attorney General Pirlo."

"_You_ can call her whatyou like! _ I_ know what she is."

"I would assume so."It was more of a mumble.

There was a change somehow in his posture.

A sort of heaviness.

"Zen" I murmured very low. " Zen... Zen ...you OK? "

"Yes, no, I'm just ... No ... tired.

"You can't have been doing anything these past months. What have you been up to? Can't you get any sleep wherever you are staying?"

"Yeah,"

He went on," It's the constant watching my back, never being able to relax. Even when I sleep it is never more than a doze. Always having to be aware ...he trailed off. "To be sure... "

I tugged at the bedclothes.

"Get up." He looked at me for a moment and stood. I flung them back.

"Get in. You can have a couple of hours here. "

"And take your shoes off" I said sharply and he slid in next to me.

"You are nice and cool" he murmured. He didn't mention I slept in the raw but he knew that already. He relaxed against me, his head resting in the curve of my shoulder, his hand loosely on my waist. In seconds he was asleep. I could feel his slow even breath in the hollow of my neck. I wrapped my arm around him and felt a gun in the small of his back. I eased it slowly out of his belt and slipped it under the pillow. I rested my head on his hair and found the curl that grew at the nape of his neck.

I twisted it around my finger and I held my love while he slept.

.

.

I ran my finger around his ear and pinched its lobe.

"Zen."I whispered.

His eyes shot open, immediately alert. His hand went fast to his back

"My gun?" he murmured.

"It's Ok. It's under the pillow. It's Ok but Shh. It is 4.20am. And the conte is up."

He started to move but I held him.

We heard the click of a door and faintly footsteps on the stairs

"Will he come in before he goes?"

"No...Perhaps it would be best if you don't leave before he does. Will I see you again? I mean, when are you going back to Rome.

They haven't set the date for the trial yet but it can't be much longer. "

He stopped

"Arianna, it would be best if we don't see each other while we are here even if we do see each other. You know?"

"I will get in touch with you when I am back and things are o.k.

We heard the Conte's car start up.

"Time to go."

I nodded."Yup. See you Zen"

And he was gone.

...

.

..


End file.
